fandomhigh | Art of Seduction [Wednesday, Period Four]

Class was in the Dangershop, but unlike usual, Bond was not.

This state of affairs lasted long enough that any prudent-minded student would likely count it a win and leave early. However, just before any could, there came an almighty explosion from the vicinity of the doorway, and there appeared a vision in white, with an impeccably curled blonde wig, pants he'd quite possibly been poured into, and a ruff that most men would kill for. Striking a pose, Bond (for it was he), proclaimed "It is I, Lord Flashheart. Huzzah!" He paused and tossed his cape back over his shoulder, obviously expecting the class to answer with a huzzah of their own. "Flash by name, flash by nature. And I'm not talking about speed. Woof!" This last was accompanied by a hip-thrust.

Someone was going to be searching for his dignity at the bottom of a glass come this evening.

'Lord Flashheart' stalked dramatically over to the front of the class proper. "To get those young fillies and squires where you want them you need to be confident, sure, devilishly sexy, and just plain awesome." Much like his greeting, this was also proclaimed, and accompanied by the odd random hip-thrust. "In short, you need to be me."

"And impossible as it may seem to approach even a morsel of my awesomeness, it can be done. But there is only one way to do it, you must..." He paused. Dramatically. And posed. Also dramatically. "Act like me. Starting now. You must speak like me, walk like me, make entrances like like me, and take what you want, like me."

"Huzzah!"

[ooc: ~~wait for~~ ocd is up. huzzah!]

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"'Follow?'" Emma asked sweetly, trying ignore the fact she was currently dressed up like a doll. "Darling, people have been saying that about me since I learned how to talk."

"And does this make you a priest in word and deed to match your name?"

Oh, but she was so perfect dressed as a doll! Pay no attention to the other TA eying what the corset put on such lovely display. (Jack had chosen not to change; he was happier in his own suit, anyhow.)

"Somehow I fail to be shocked, but you have to admit it suits you. And mine's a borrowed name," Jack grinned. "Nom de guerre. Pity -- I think I'd look rather handsome in a clerical collar."

His birth name meant priest, too, but that was beside the point.

"Pity, I enjoy the irony inherent in your surname. Eyes up here, Jack," Emma said dryly, reaching out to tap his chin in reprimand, "Before I become tempted to kill you with my brain."

"It's not fair to think such things, if you aren't going to follow through." No, Emma wasn't digging, but he was a teenage male. She didn't need telepathy to understand an appreciative gaze.

"Only you could say such a thing and mean it," said Jack, who had never met River Tam. His chin rose, though, and he found Emma's eyes. "Forgive my impertinence. Was that an offer?"

She was going to be the death of him, deadly brain or no.

"I thought you weren't interested," Emma demurred. "Do you even know what you want?"

"I'm sure I'll figure it out." That meant no, not really. "Do you?"

Emma rewarded the honesty with a slow smile.

"Always," she said simply. "I don't dither around when it comes to making up my mind."

"There's too much outside stimulus that I constantly have to try and sift through to keep from running around in circles and screaming. If I didn't know what I wanted, I'd end up a basket case in a mental ward, since having everyone else's wants and desires pressing in on my brain without having any of my own to center myself around would drive me bloody insane."

Again. Insane again, technically, but Emma had gotten better.

So they were being honest. Jack folded his arms, tilting his head a bit as he weighed his words.

"It's not that I'm not interested in going beyond friendship, really," he all but whispered. "It's that you're complicated, and I never want to hurt anyone." Or to get hurt by a girl in his head, but that much was obvious. "Whatever this is, it's not something that would be easy."

Jack had a Sebastien. That ... was enough complication for one teenager. Some days it made him feel forty. Add a girl who felt attacked by other people's thoughts, and he was sure he could make it sixty.

"Of course I'm complicated, I'm female," Emma deadpanned. "I'm just more honest about it than most women."

"And you think rather highly of yourself, Mr. Priest, if you think you could hurt me."

"I think extremely highly of myself," Jack said coolly. "And most girls don't try to rearrange my brain when I kiss them. You're a tricky one, Miss Frost."

Emma's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What? Would you rather you were such a boring kisser that I didn't have any problems making sure my control was perfect?" she asked sweetly. "I would like to point out that the link went both ways - you were in my head, too - so take it as a compliment."

And considering how close to her chest Emma tended to play her cards, it was one, albeit an accidental compliment. If she didn't trust Jack, she wouldn't have left the common room with him in the first place.

"I know my talents can be... overwhelming to those that aren't used to the idea, and I am trying to be patient about it, but it's like hating a cat for catching a bird. It's what I am, Jack. I am not separate from my Gift."

"Emma." Jack's voice was firm. "Don't say 'oh, of course I'm complicated, I'm a woman' and then get angry when I point out that you aren't precisely like any other girl in the school. I know your gifts aren't separate from you. The way you handle them is part of why you're worth the bother in the first place. Consider that your compliment."

He glanced over to Bond, or whoever he thought he was today. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation elsewhere."

"I agreed with you, pointed out that at least I'm upfront about being difficult, and you accused me of rearranging your brain," Emma replied, voice equally firm as she smoothed down her skirt. She was rather sure the entire lack of oxygen from this corset was making her lightheaded and cranky.

"I hate to be a bother, but perhaps you're right. Why don't we just both take our compliments, and next time I won't tease you about appreciating the view, so long as you don't drool on my dress."

That wasn't where Jack was going -- he'd been winding up to ask her to Caritas -- but if it was where she was taking it, fine. He'd blame the corset, or her mood, or the weather. Or possibly just that she was Emma.

"I'll keep my saliva in my mouth, then," he said, mental armor rather firmly on. "And the compliment is appreciated."

This? This was why Emma believed in snooping. Because clearly, something had gone wrong somewhere, and if she hadn't been trying to respect Jack's boundaries, that wouldn't have happened.

Men. Her head hurt.

"Jack," she sighed, giving him a crooked grin before heading off to go change out of her gown. "The compliment is appreciated. I mean that."

It could be the corset, her mood, or the weather. Or, maybe, just because she was Emma.

Art of Seduction [Wednesday, Period Four]

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